


Sparking joy

by foughtyen



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Keaton being a slob, With apologies to Marie Kondo and Clue (1985)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foughtyen/pseuds/foughtyen
Summary: When she saysI love mess, I feel something in here.” Keaton taps his chest.(jokefic)
Relationships: Camilla/Flannel | Keaton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Sparking joy

Keaton’s legs hang over the armrest, crossed at the ankles. He wears only a plaid flannel bathrobe, hanging open and crusted with chips, the reds and yellows of at least five different flavors. Muddy tracks end at the sofa, with his feet. All the easier to catch you red-handed, or brown-footed, my dear.

Camilla saunters in, yawning good morning, curlers in her hair. She grabs his ankle and messes the fur. “I thought you were going to at least shower. You promised me.”

“I remember your doe eyes. Come, look at this! I’ll prove it to ya.” Keaton rolls off the sofa and leaps to the bathroom, leaving a trail of crumbs and dirt for Camilla to follow. They had watched Clue the previous night off a thrifted VHS tape. Keaton had been drawn to a mysteriously fragrant stain on the box; the contents of the film were secondary.

In the bathroom, the air is thick with steam. A layer of hot mist has condensed on the walls, the counters, every last smooth surface down to the half-used can of hairspray that Camilla doesn’t remember leaving in here. She guesses the humidity helps treasure-ify things faster.

“Now, what you’ll notice first is that Keaton’s towel is dry.” He ignores a series of water splatters on the floor and the bathmat drenched into a darker hue. “Did he bathe?” He taps his chin in contemplation. “Camilla, have you changed Keaton’s towel since... five minutes ago?”

Camilla shakes her head, playing along. “No, I didn’t. But I don’t think Keaton would dry himself with one either.”

“Good, good! Now see the mirrors.” He adjusts Camilla’s makeup mirror to reflect the larger, wall-mounted one. Infinite Keaton’s draw infinite smiley faces in the condensation.

“My, they’re covered in steam.” Camilla nods.

Keaton leaves a paw print. Camilla winces as his claws clatter on the glass. “Yes. I believe that Keaton was here.” He sniffs the air and points with his nose. “His scent goes this way.”

Camilla gestures to a series of footprints and a line where a tail might have dragged between them. “So do his steps.”

“So far, I think it’s safe to say that I did cover myself in water, maybe splashed about a bit, and was squeaky clean and dripping wet when I left the bathroom.”

“Darling, I know you bathed. I can smell the shampoo I got for you.”

Keaton pouts. “Oh... well, if you’re gonna be like that, case closed then.”

Camilla sighs. “No, no, we can see where this trail leads.”

Opening a door to the courtyard and following the fading prints leads them to a mud puddle. “From the direction of these footprints and the fine, artfully messy splash pattern, I think I went something like this.

Keaton steps squarely into the mud and jumps. It covers his toes. He smiles.

“Now, the trail picks up here and goes this way.”

They follow the muddy paw prints to a different door, across several rugs and carpets whose intricate patterns are browned and stiffened with clotted dirt in various stages of drying.

At last, they arrive at the couch where they started. Keaton hops over the back pillows and grabs the remote with two fingers.

“Oh wait, one last thing.” He points to sprinkles of water on the surface of the TV. “You might want to make sure your mouth is closed for this.”

Camilla covers her face with her arm as Keaton shakes himself dry. He smiles a remorseless, toothy grin. “Okay, it’s safe to come out.”

She wipes husband water from her forehead. “Lovely. Um, do remind me to order more plastic coverings for my side of the castle.”

“Sure thing.” anything to let him stay on the furniture in Camilla’s side. the last time he got his chair privileges revoked was great fun but embarrassing when it overlapped into a family dinner. the attention was welcome, but the stares were not appreciated.

Camilla relaxes her shoulders into the cushions. “What are we watching today?”

“There’s this neat lady called Marie Kondo. I’ve seen her in memes and I think we’re kindred spirits.”

Camilla frowns.

“Not in a romantic way! I only love you and you know it. But when she says _I love mess_ , I feel something in here.” He taps his chest.

Camilla laughs. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Because _I_ love mess too! Awoo—!”

They put their arms around each other and get comfortable, but Keaton soon discovers that a show called _Tidying Up_ aligns less with his core beliefs than he would like. His outbursts punctuate the episode:

“Wait, why are they getting rid of this great stuff?”

and

“If they’d let me on there, I’d show ‘em how to turn this stuff into real treasures.”

and

“I know they don’t have smellovision yet, but I don’t need to sniff it to tell this is barely a mess. Seriously, some of those things look like they were just in the laundry!”

and

“Some people just aren’t thankful for what they have.”

and

“Hey, I have socks like that! Mine have more holes though.”

After the hour of programming is finished, Keaton hastily pens a letter. Camilla watches his hand fly across the paper. She wonders what her reaction would have been if he had come at her with the same enthusiasm as he approached _stuff_. Perhaps their slow burn was best, like sliding into a bath.

Keaton speaks out loud as he writes. His penmanship is astonishingly neat, perhaps because he writes so slowly:

_Dear Mrs. Kondo,_

_It has come to my attention that you are in the business of convincing people to give away perfectly good treasures. I am willing to take those items off your hands. They will go to a good cause (me) and be well looked after by a watchful eye (me, also my wife.) I’ve got a lot of room in my castle and know how to treat things with care, by biting them, tearing them, and getting them dirty. Thank you for your consideration and I look forward to working with you._

_Keaton F., leader of the Wolfskins (emeritus), prince of Nohr (nowmeritus)._

“A—nd done. Honey, where are the postage stamps?”

“If you send that, anything you get is going into your daughter’s Deeprealm.”

Keaton mlems. “Yes dear, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fates is such a frustrating set of games but Keaton can stay :) my trash wolfman


End file.
